The Book of the Dead Page 16

  ‘Sorry,’ he said as he got out. ‘Close encounter with a wandering cow in the lane. I’ll never make a rustler. Been waiting long?’

  ‘Five minutes going on three hours,’ she replied as he kissed her. ‘The train was freezing and waiting for the connection at Warrington didn’t improve matters.’

  ‘Not exactly Fun City, Western Europe,’ Maltravers acknowledged. ‘But I once saw Slough on a rainy night in February and prayed for Betjeman’s friendly bombs to start falling. Come on, I’ll get you to the cottage.’

  Tess climbed into the passenger seat, carefully folding her coat away from being caught in the door.

  ‘What’s all this about a murder up here?’ she asked as Maltravers turned the car round. ‘There were a couple of paragraphs in the paper this morning which didn’t tell me much, except that it must have happened quite nearby.’

  ‘Very,’ he confirmed. ‘And I seem to have become quite mixed up in it one way and another.’

  Tess listened as they drove back, a deepening frown filling her face. He finished as they pulled up outside Brook Cottage.

  ‘And you’re not satisfied are you?’ she said.

  ‘True, O Queen,’ he replied. ‘You’re becoming much too good at reading my mind. There’s something…’

  Going through it all right from the beginning abruptly precipitated Maltravers’s gathering frustration as phantom suggestions flitted again in the corners of his brain. Tess looked startled as he slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

  ‘What is it, for Christ’s sake? There’s some stupid little thing that doesn’t make sense. I know there is but I can’t bloody well see it!’

  ‘My God, it is getting to you, isn’t it?’ Tess sounded concerned. ‘Is it as bad as that?’

  ‘Yes, because…’ Maltravers paused, trying to analyse something. ‘Because until I can identify it, I can’t convince myself that it’s not important.’

  ‘But you worked out the safe combination,’ Tess argued. ‘Isn’t that enough for you?’

  ‘It should be. Malcolm and Lucinda were very impressed and the police obviously think it’s important. I’ve got gold stars all over the place for it.’ Maltravers turned off the engine and they got out of the car. He looked at her across the metal roof. ‘But it’s as though it was just waiting for someone to find it.’

  ‘Like it had been put there deliberately?’ Tess suggested. Maltravers stared at her for a moment then nodded. ‘I wonder if that’s it? Oh, there’s wisdom in women, as the poet has it.’

  ‘Do you mean knowing the combination doesn’t matter?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, it’s got to matter. But perhaps not in the way we all think it does.’

  Tess was made welcome then went upstairs to change. In the bedroom she saw The Attwater Firewitch and glanced through it briefly, its presence underlining Maltravers’s misgivings. She came down again wearing a Greenpeace T-shirt, jeans and white leather sandals. Shaken free from the close-fitting hat, long rippling hair glowed like dark honey filled with sunlight. Malcolm and Lucinda were in the kitchen and Maltravers was sitting in the captain’s chair, one long leg hooked over the wooden arm; he appeared wrapped in the same sort of abstraction usually brought on by a new idea about something he was writing.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Tess offered.

  ‘Not worth it,’ he replied absently. ‘Not even with inflation.’

  ‘Let it go,’ she told him. ‘You’re only getting uptight.’

  ‘I know I am.’ He sighed and stood up. ‘Whisky on its way.’

  ‘The trouble is that you’re hung up on Sherlock Holmes,’ Tess said as he crossed to the cupboard in the wall and took out the bottle. ‘It’s not really…’

  ‘Of course!’ Maltravers stood very still, his hand still holding the half-closed door. ‘The dog didn’t bark in the night.’

  Tess looked mystified. ‘You haven’t said anything about a dog.’

  Maltravers turned to face her, shaking his head impatiently. ‘It’s just the same principle. And that means…just a minute, I’ve got to work this all out.’

  Tess watched as new tumbling thoughts were reflected in his face then he gave her a smile like a swallowed sun.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve just found the needle,’ he announced. ‘I was looking in the wrong haystack. Just like Sherlock Holmes.’

  ‘The wrong haystack,’ Tess repeated cautiously. ‘Darling, what are you burbling about?’

  ‘He’s talking about The Attwater Firewitch.’ Malcolm had stepped in from the kitchen and heard the conversation. ‘I only know that because I’ve read it as well. But he’s going to have to explain.’

  For a few moments they waited as Maltravers stood by the drinks cupboard, wrestling with his thoughts. Then he smiled again.

  ‘But after that, of course, the dog did bark in the night when it shouldn’t have done.’ He was speaking aloud to himself. ‘Which means…well, what does it mean?’

  *

  Lydden’s solicitor looked uncomfortable as he faced Moore in Kendal police station.

  ‘The police must act as they see fit, of course, but do you really have sufficient grounds to bring charges against my client?’

  ‘Mr Lambert is satisfied,’ Moore told him. ‘There is very substantial evidence against him and we have no other suspects.’

  ‘Not at this stage,’ the lawyer corrected. ‘My client still insists that he is innocent.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to see what the magistrates make of it, won’t we?’ Moore observed. ‘As far as the police are concerned, we have a case to present to them.’

  ‘Only a circumstantial one as far as I can see. I shall request an immediate dismissal and if that fails, I shall certainly make an application for bail.’

  ‘And the police will oppose you.’ Moore shrugged. ‘We’ve both got our jobs to do. Let’s see who the magistrates agree with.’

  The lawyer left the room and returned to the police cell where Lydden leapt up in anticipation as he entered.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Have you made them see sense?’

  ‘They’re taking you before the magistrates in the morning and will press charges of murder and other offences.’

  Lydden stared in outrage. ‘The bastards! Christ, I’ll sue them when this bloody thing is over! I’ll wreck that Lambert’s career. I’ll make him eat dirt. I’ll…’

  ‘Duggie,’ the solicitor interrupted warningly. ‘At the moment, all I want from you is some evidence—any evidence—that I can produce to the court in the morning. And keep your mouth shut when you appear. You’re in enough trouble without shouting threats all over the place.’

  Lydden regarded him with disgust. ‘Then you can piss off. You’re no bloody use to me if you think I’m guilty as well. You do, don’t you?’

  ‘You’re telling me you didn’t do it, Duggie,’ the solicitor replied. ‘I’ll represent you as best I can, but I need some ammunition.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Frankly, like anything,’ the lawyer told him wearily. ‘I can’t see that they’ve got enough to prove anything absolutely at the moment, but if they can cast doubts on your seeing Jennifer Carrington at Carwelton Hall on Thursday—and they’ve made no secret about being confident over that—then it’s going to be very heavy going. And knowing that safe combination…’

  ‘But I don’t know it!’ Lydden protested. ‘I read that book God knows how long ago and Charles never told me about using the numbers in it.’

  ‘Well put it this way, Duggie. It seems that whoever opened that safe knew the combination, which they could have worked out from the book. The police say they’ve checked everyone else who they know has read it and are satisfied they’re in the clear. Any suggestions?’

  Lydden turned away. The suggestion he wanted to scream was that Jennifer Carrington had virtually agreed with him that they could steal the books, if they could only find a way of opening the safe. But there had ne
ver been any question of murder in Lydden’s mind. Now he did not know what was happening and was terrified of admitting something that might be forged into more evidence against himself in the face of her lies. Just one witness—anybody—who had seen him at the shop that afternoon could put him in the clear. Until that happened, he could only struggle in the web that had been woven around him. He hated Jennifer Carrington with a searing intensity; she was the only woman who had been too clever for him and he could not see how she had done it.

  *

  Tess, Malcolm and Lucinda remained silent as Maltravers finished. As he looked round at them all, they appeared dubious.

  ‘Come on,’ he invited. ‘Don’t applaud, just throw money.’

  ‘It’s very ingenious, Gus,’ Malcolm acknowledged uncertainly. ‘But you’ve built up an entire murder plot from precious little. You could have got the whole thing totally round your neck.’

  ‘Possibly—you have another explanation?’

  ‘But it’s got gaps all over the place,’ Lucinda objected. ‘There are all sorts of questions you need answers to. How will you do that?’

  ‘I met someone called Jack Bradshaw at a party about a year ago,’ he replied. ‘He’s a former copper who now runs a private detective agency. I talked to him for quite a while and he seemed very good. I’ll ring him in the morning.’

  ‘But he might come up with nothing at all,’ Tess objected. ‘You’re just shooting in the dark with hardly anything to go on.’

  ‘And it won’t hurt to try,’ Maltravers argued. ‘All right, I’m only guessing at the moment, but let’s see if Bradshaw comes up with anything and take it from there.’

  ‘Gus, why don’t you just tell the police all this?’ Lucinda asked. ‘They could check it out much more easily than you can.’

  Maltravers shook his head firmly. ‘Not yet. I’m positive I could be on to something, but I’m not absolutely sure it’s a murderer. There could be another explanation. If I do manage to find out enough to clinch it, I’ll hand it all over to them. And if I don’t manage to confirm anything, I’ll have to forget it.’

  ‘This could take you some time,’ Malcolm remarked. ‘Are you sure it’s safe to wait before telling the police? If you’re right…’

  ‘Another day or so won’t matter,’ Maltravers said indifferently. ‘The murder’s been done and the only one suffering at the moment is Lydden. From what I know about him, he deserves to sweat a bit.’

  *

  In Carwelton Hall, Jennifer Carrington sat at her glass-topped dressing table, an engraved silver jewel box open in front of her. She picked up a ruby and emerald necklace which had belonged to Carrington’s first wife, the facets of the stones hard and reassuring under her hand; she had never worn it. She needed the comfort of touching it, knowing its value and dependability, as the fact that things had gone wrong almost from the moment Charles had died kept coming back. It was no good being told not to worry as long as Duggie was still held by the police. Charlotte Quinn had come on Thursday afternoon—God alone knew why—which could ruin everything. Jennifer Carrington’s fingers tightened round the necklace as she faced again the terrifying fact that she could be left alone and exposed, her lies torn to shreds, her guilt laid bare. But she could prove somebody else had lied as well.

  *

  The girl who answered the telephone next morning sounded bored and faintly irritated that she had been made to do some work.

  ‘Bradshaw’s Enquiry Agency.’

  ‘Is Mr Bradshaw there?’ Maltravers asked.

  ‘Yeah. Do you want to speak to him?’

  ‘No. I’m just wasting time and money on a long distance phone call to check on his movements.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Never mind, just put me through…hello? Gus Maltravers. We met at Laura Mazur’s party in Lancaster Gate last year. Remember? That’s right. I’ve got a job for you. If I give you the registration number of a car, can you find the name and address of the owner?’

  ‘Unless the vehicle licensing centre at Swansea has gone on strike,’ Bradshaw replied. ‘It’ll cost you though.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that. And once you’ve found it, I want some more information about the owner. How long would that take?’

  ‘Depends how much you want to know. There are a lot of computers. I can give you his credit rating instantly, but if you’re asking for his life history from his first measles jab to how much he’s earning in his current job and what his mortgage is, it takes longer. Twenty-four hours to be on the safe side.’

  ‘That’ll be fine, but don’t bother with too much detail. All I really need to know is how long he’s been at his present address, where he was before and what he does for a living.’

  ‘What’s the car number?’ Bradshaw sounded disappointed that the request was not more challenging.

  ‘XCX 345X,’ Maltravers told him, ‘I don’t know what make.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. Where can I get back to you? Got it. I’ll call tomorrow morning.’

  Lucinda raised her eyebrows at Tess as Maltravers rang off. ‘And this is the man who positively boasts of his ignorance about cars? How on earth did you remember that number?’

  ‘Pure chance,’ he replied. ‘On long journeys I often pass the time by playing the old game of making up words from number plates. The rule is that the letters must occur in the same order, but not necessarily together. The XCX combination caught my eye because it was a tough one and you may remember me saying ‘executrix’ as we left Carwelton Hall the other night. The 345 and the final X were easy after that and…’

  He was interrupted by the phone ringing. It was Malcolm with the news that Duggie Lydden was appearing in court that morning.

  ‘They’re charging him.’ Maltravers put the receiver down. ‘The evidence must all be circumstantial, but it’s bloody strong and they daren’t let him go. He’s been very cleverly stitched up.’

  He looked at bright autumn sunshine biting through the living-room window, then turned to Tess. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing I can do for the time being and it’s a perfect day for a drive round the Lakes. There’s a shop in Kendal I want to take you to as well.’

  Half an hour later, Charlotte Quinn was obsessed with restless, acid thoughts when the shop bell tinkled. She steeled herself to face another customer, somehow acting as though everything was normal, when she saw it was Maltravers with a woman she did not know.

  ‘Hello, again,’ he said. ‘I promised I’d come back with Tess.’ Charlotte smiled with relief. At least with him she would not have to clamp a total strait-jacket around her emotions.

  ‘Of course you did. Are you interested in anything particular?’

  ‘A good deal, I imagine,’ Tess replied, looking round the shop. ‘I think I can do half my Christmas shopping here.’

  She and Maltravers wandered round while Charlotte Quinn served other customers, but the shop was empty again as they went to pay for the things Tess had chosen.

  ‘That’s a hundred and fifty-four pounds thirty.’ Charlotte smiled thinly. ‘Call it a hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Discount on top of your prices?’ Tess commented in surprise as she handed over her credit card. ‘I’ve already saved a small fortune. Do you know how much this sort of thing costs in London?’

  ‘I could never charge that up here.’ Charlotte turned to Maltravers. ‘Anyway, I owe you a great deal. I don’t know how I’d have coped on Thursday afternoon if you hadn’t been there.’ Her face went bitter. ‘The pity is I didn’t meet you before and have you tell me I should talk to Charles. If I’d found the courage to do that sooner, it might never have happened. That’s what’s so awful. I keep telling myself…’

  ‘Then don’t,’ Maltravers interrupted firmly. ‘You’ve nothing to blame yourself for.’

  ‘Yes there is,’ she contradicted savagely. ‘You don’t know how much. Nobody does. Now it’s something I’ve got to…do you know what I can’t get out of my mind? What Sherl
ock Holmes says towards the end of Charles’s book. “Love destroys as often as it blesses.” You don’t expect lines like that in detective stories.’

  While Charlotte Quinn had been talking, she had been absently playing with Tess’s credit card in her hand; now she automatically reached for the machine to process it. Maltravers and Tess felt uncomfortable as they watched tears slipping down her face as she completed the sale and put Tess’s purchases into green and gold Quintessence carrier bags. When she looked at them again, her eyes were empty and she seemed much older.

  ‘It’s been nice meeting you,’ she said to Tess. ‘I’m sorry I…’ She gestured helplessly, smearing her make-up as she rubbed a tear away.

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ Tess said gently. ‘Gus has told me about you and Charles. There’s nothing adequate to say, is there?’

  ‘No.’ Charlotte drew herself upright. ‘Thank you for not trying. People always feel they have to say something when they should just shut up. This is my problem and I’ll deal with it my way. Goodbye.’

  As they walked away from Quintessence, Stricklandgate was full of the everyday bustle of the main street in a Lakeland market town. Traffic crawled noisily up the hill, people mingled on the pavements, a baby cried in a pram left outside a supermarket. Murder had inflicted drama, but they were all safely removed from its pain. Tess looked concerned as they made their way back to the car-park.

  ‘That is one very unhappy woman,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell her what you think you could be on to?’

  ‘For one thing, I could be wrong,’ Maltravers replied. ‘But there’s more to it than that. When I first met Charlotte she was resentful, now she’s bitter. If it turns out I am right, I certainly don’t fancy telling her because then she’s going to be very angry indeed.’

  They drove up to Keswick for lunch then went out of the town past Derwent Water into Borrowdale. Maltravers stopped in the shadow of the forbidding mass of Great Gable and they climbed its slopes until they could see the valley spread out before them, mottled greens and bracken browns, alternately lit and darkened by sunshine and scudding clouds. Tess lay back on short, tough, sheep-cropped grass beneath a crag of rock with Maltravers sitting beside her.